


Smooth Beef

by orphan_account



Category: Socpens Discord Channel
Genre: Action, Adventure, Evil, M/M, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Submitted with absolutely no context because I have no idea what the hell I'm doing with my life.Buff Thomas and Smooth Barney fight and then don't.
Relationships: Buff Thomas/Smooth Barney
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	Smooth Beef

**Author's Note:**

> Don't give me bad ideas, because I will do that bad idea.

The glass ball was shattered, his prison destroyed. Fragments of it littered the ground around his newly reformed body, glistening in the dim lights of the warehouse. The cool breeze filtering in through the gaps in the collapsing ceiling felt foreign against his green form, rolling over his bulging muscles and covering him in chicken skin. Everything was silent, save for the faint whistle emitting from his own smokestack, clouds of acrid smoke belching into the air.

BT couldn’t recall the last time he’d breathed air that hadn’t been bottled with him, and he could barely remember the face of those responsible for his capture. Flexing in confusion, his mechanical mind raced as he tried to place where he was and who he would hold accountable for the crime of attempting to seal him. Though his memories were foggy, all he could feel was rage.

“Got you, you son of a bitch.”

BT jerked upright at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, monotonous and drawling. The sound was smooth, however, like melted wax oozing down the side of a candle. Turning around, BT gazed out into the forest of forklifts and shipping crates that he’d awoken into, wide and static eyes incapable of squinting for better visibility. He felt vulnerable in that moment, knowing that he was being watched from the shadows. Had his face not been painted on, he may have very well worn an expression of terror.

“Do you know how long it took me to find you?”

Footsteps, slow and deliberate. Finally, a hint of movement caught BT’s attention and, from the darkness, emerged a man who was every bit as smooth as his voice. His tired and uneven eyes regarded BT with a certain degree of anger hidden deep beneath a layer of apathy, his impeccably pristine skin almost fondant-like in appearance. The only hint of age were his laugh lines, deep creases carved into his uncanny visage.

In front of him, he held a pistol. It was as sleek and immaculate as its holder.

“I asked you a question. Do you know how long it took me to find you?”

BT tooted angrily in response. Instinctively, he flexed himself into the most imposing pose he could muster, pecs and biceps bulging as a show of dominance. The smaller man drew nearer, and BT noticed his peculiar attire: a security uniform of some kind, and a bicycle helmet crudely covered with denim. If BT’s face had been capable of exhibiting confusion, he would have let his adversary know how ridiculous he looked.

“Years,” the figure growled. “Goddamn  _ years _ . That… that  _ thing _ had his army hide you from me, thinkin’ that would keep them safe. But I’m a stubborn guy, BT. I’m so very, very stubborn.”

A toot of alarm. How had this man known his name? A burst of anxiety exploded within BT as he lowered himself into a fighting stance, muscles rippling with his every move. The stranger leveled his gun at him, careful to aim for the flesh beneath his massive, metallic head.

“You wouldn’t know me, big guy. They call me Barney.” He cocked the gun and smirked. “ _ Smooth _ Barney. And I’m gonna need to borrow all that power you got. If there’s any hope for me destroyin’ that baby and his fuckin’ cult, it’s gotta be done.”

BT tootled louder as his body tensed like a predatory cat, ready to strike.

“Nothing personnel, kid,” Smooth Barney laughed, and a shot echoed through the warehouse rafters.

It was by sheer luck that BT moved out of the way, diving to the side before breaking into a sprint. His eyes would have burned with anger if they were capable of such a thing, as would his mouth have twisted into a furious snarl if it wasn’t stuck in an idiot smile. His massive hands wrapped around Smooth Barney’s shoulders as he tackled the curious man to the ground, the gun clattering away across the concrete and vanishing into the dark. The sound he made as his back connected to the cold, hard floor was heartening, and despite his own malicious nature, BT couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.

Like fighting dogs, they thrashed on the ground, BT watching as the much smaller man struggled and hissed and spat in his grip. He was wily and slippery, but so small and delicate, weak and desperate and driven only by spirit. Without his gun, he was nothing but a ragdoll to be tossed around by the obviously superior opponent, thrown against metal shipping containers and dashed into wooden crates.

To Smooth Barney’s credit, he was tenacious, and that was something that BT could respect in a man. The evil in this creature ran deep, perhaps as deep as his own, and there was a certain level of admirability to be found in somebody with such strong convictions. Even as bruises blossomed across his skin, his eye blackened (but still remarkably smooth), and his denim helmet was lost in the fray, he carried on. His hatred for the baby and his minions was as strong as BT’s own.

“Why... won’t... you… let me WIN?” Smooth Barney roared, slapping uselessly at BT’s smiling face. BT tooted back at him viciously, black and ash pouring from his smokestack. With strength that was probably less than that of an actual train, he hoisted the tiny human from the ground and slammed him into the wall. Beefy fists tangled in his collar as he leaned his imposing locomotive cranium closer and closer to his opponent’s face.

And it was there that BT realized just how smooth Smooth Barney truly was.

What had been intended to be one last moment to drink in his foe’s expression before the lights died in his eyes became a long stretch of silence in which he couldn’t help but admire him. His lack of pores was remarkable, and there was something charming about his thin lips, and the way his right eye was significantly smaller than the left. His thick and solid bowl-cut black hair, now exposed, framed his emaciated countenance in a manner most pleasing. 

Smooth Barney thrashed against his hold until he had no more energy to fight. Going limp in BT’s grip, he offered a winded shrug and spat on the floor.

“You gonna finish me or not?”

BT tooted sadly. He wasn’t sure what came over him. In an instant, his hold of Smooth Barney released and the smaller man tumbled to the floor.

Face awash with confusion, Smooth Barney tilted his head upwards and regarded the towering steam engine looming above him. His stupidly smiling face, his Herculean physique, the way he vogued for no reason, as if somebody was waiting in the wings to take his photo. BT half expected him to leap to his feet, to find his gun, to finish the job, but instead…

… He didn’t. Slowly, he clambered up from the floor. There was a sparkle in his eyes, as if he’d just had a religious experience. As if BT were a god, and he was a peasant desperate for divine approval.

“My god, you’re stacked,” he whispered breathlessly. BT tooted in confusion, then reached up to touch his smokestack gingerly, shyly.

“What was I thinking? Goddammit, Smooth Barney! You almost destroyed  _ art _ !”

BT felt his heart beat faster. Was this a human trick?

“Maybe it’s the skull fractures and the fact I likely have a concussion but, now that I’ve had a chance to look at you, I don’t know what the hell I was thinkin’. You’re beautiful. You’re graceful. You’re more violent and destructive than a bull covered in chainsaws runnin’ through a packed stadium.”

If BT was capable of blushing, those beautiful words would have made him flush red. To signify the fact he was flattered, he waved a hand in front of his face as if fanning himself off.

“God, how could I be so stupid? I don’t need to absorb your power! I don’t even know if I could do that in the first place! What I need is…  _ you _ .”

With that, Smooth Barney closed the gap between them, wrapping both of his tiny hands around one of BT’s gargantuan palms. The rage drained out of him as if a plug had been pulled, and a warmth replaced it that burned like pleasant hellfire. Stooping down to one knee, he allowed Smooth Barney access to his face, where the cold and wax-like man placed a single, chaste kiss on the indent that acted as a facsimile of a mouth.

“BT, would you do me the honor of helping me eradicate a troublesome infant and the weird cult of scorpions that follows him everywhere? Together, we shall rule a kingdom of darkness, chaos, and migraine-inducing VHS glitch effects.”

BT tooted happily. The smile he wore on his face was, for the first time in all of his days, warranted.

The baby would have no idea what hit him.


End file.
